


Breakable

by noconceptoflife



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noconceptoflife/pseuds/noconceptoflife
Summary: Clark and Diana are the two people in the world Bruce can say he trusts totally, and he still sometimes forgets. He forgets that though he's the most breakable of the trio, they arent immortal.





	1. Venom

**Author's Note:**

> General backstory: This chapter takes place a few months after the Joker killed Jason, but since Jason shows up again later in the story I didn't want to tag him as being dead. He'll get better. 
> 
> This chapter is wonderbat, the superbat and superwonder and superwonderbat will come later I promise.
> 
> Warnings for talk of poisoning, needles, and vape.

An alarm goes off.

It's not a loud alarm, but it gets his attention. It's been a long, slow night so far. He's an hour away from the full decryption of the drive he was able to salvage from Riddler's last lair. There are other things to do. He still needs to track down the Joker who escaped three days ago. Catwoman hasn't done anything in two weeks, which means she's planning something that he should put a stop to. He isn't working on any of that. He can't bring himself to, not now at least. A part of him notes this down, that he's spent forty-five minutes watching a progress bar tick forward. He has the code scrolling by, his computer noting the snarls it runs into so he can improve the program later. For forty-five minutes he sat, zoning out, letting himself sit still and his eyes glaze over to the world. Bruce knows that's something to be concerned about, but he also knows that it's better than letting his mind linger on other topics.

This specific alarm is on the roof to alert him to anything heavier than a raccoon. He taps the screen to pull up the security feed. Most likely it's a fat possum. It's the right time of the year for that. Worst case scenario, it's someone trying to break in or very dedicated paparazzi. It's happened before. If not for Clark, Bruce would hate all people who work in the press. Best case scenario is it's the fat possum and he can go back to not working.

The screen flickers and Bruce can tell it's raining hard outside. Visibility doesn't decrease with the rain, but it does make it hard to understand what he's seeing on his roof. He moves it to the big screen.

The thing on the roof turns its head, and the glint of metal in the moonlight peeking through the sky is enough for him to notice the silhouette. It's Diana. Diana is on his roof, trying to stumble to one of the windows. He knows exactly where she is. The scratches on the windowsill's wood tells him the location. That was from when he was young and had tried to nudge a wayward raccoon who got inside out the window. It had only dug its claws in until the lacquer was permanently gouged. He should look into getting that fixed. Why Wonder Woman is on his roof can be explained later. For all he knows, it isn't her, and it's a convincing lookalike here to deceive him. It's something to consider. He thinks that right until he sees her boot plant on the roof and she slips and bashes her face right into his roof, causing a few tiles to come loose. He doesn't wince for her. Only Diana could slip and end up damaging the thing she fell on.

He takes off the costume before he leaves for the upper levels of the manor. If anyone is looking -people are always watching Bruce- then he can make an excuse. He can say Wonder Woman heard about his generous heart and incredible good looks and came to speak to him about important matters. Bruce already has a lecture about putting their secret identities at risk prepared. It's not on his mind that minute. What's on his mind is a strange bubbling eagerness to see one of his true friends during a rough night.

The window is on the second story, right outside of the upstairs sitting room. He has to disarm the alarm on it and then unlock it three different times. Paranoia pays off in spades all the time, so the minute it takes to get the window open worth it.

Rainwater trickles in, and Bruce sticks his head out. She was right there. Where could she have gone?

The thump next to him answers the question, and Diana's head pokes out to the side. "Hey!" She says, grinning wide. "There you are! Hi. How are you?"

Bruce offers her a hand. "I'm doing well tonight, Ma'am. Do you need help?"

Diana nods and takes his hand, but overshoots. Her hand grips his shoulder, her feet slide back, and then she's on her stomach outside of the window.

This is unlike her, but Bruce keeps himself steady so she can pull herself inside and get water on the rug. Diana is by no means an easy woman to support. At six feet tall and all muscle from active living, she is only a little smaller than he is. That's discounting her boots, which sometimes have heels built into them for the intimidation factor. She never wears them into battle, but she does it because she likes to be taller than the people who interview her.

She understands image. It's a good trait of hers.

Diana staggers to her feet. Bruce closes the window, resets the locks and the alarm, and closes the curtains to keep out any prying eyes. He lets the charming playboy mask drop and sighs through his nose. "It's nearly two AM, you know that right?"

"Mmmm." Diana trails off with a giggle. "I know, but I had to-" She snorts. "I had to see you."

She makes her way to one of the couches and flops down, getting rainwater all over it. Bruce turns on a lamp before circling around to meet up with her.

Diana seems to find this whole situation hilarious, with how she keeps giggling to herself. He ignores that and takes her in, noting different things as he does so.

Her long dark hair is heavy with water, in tangles around her head, sticking to her forehead in thin strands. Her face is stretching in a large smile, eyes closed and chest heaving with snorts and giggles. Her costume is on, but worse for wear. She's got a little red on the bottom of her face, and looking closer it's blood. Blood that dripped down from her nose and into her teeth from where she's smiling. Her bracers and other jewelry are still on, and her lasso is curled firmly around her thigh rather than her waist.

Despite the bad time and the strange situation, he's glad to see her. He leaves her to stain his couch and heads for one of his closets, fetching an emergency medical kit. It's nothing fancy, but something to wipe up her blood and pick out the bits of his roof he could see stuck into her face.

Diana. It's different than any relationship he's had before. To Batman, she's a valued colleague and one of the true founders of the Justice League. To Batman, she's stronger than him and he can trust her to challenge his ideas without any hesitation. To Batman, she's dependable in a fight and her mind is the tactician to his detective. While Batman finds the where, what, and when, she finds the _how_ , putting situations together and thinking through plans like she was there. As Batman, he'd always appreciated and valued her.

Somewhere along the line they stopped being Batman and Wonder Woman, and started being Bruce and Diana. Bruce has long stopped caring about the distinction between himself and Batman. In the end, it doesn't matter, because it's still him no matter what. It’s the same way with Diana.

"What's so funny?" Bruce asks as he kneels next to her, medical kit in hand, trying to wipe at her face so he can check and see if she got hurt putting her face through his roof.

She shoots him another grin, propped up on an elbow. "It's a long- a long story." She giggles.

"I'm all ears." Bruce wonders how much booze she had to choke down to get this drunk.

"I ran into- I saw- it was the funniest- " Diana's giggles interrupt her speech like hiccups "-I saw the Joker when I was- when I was passing- on the edge of- of town."

Bruce stares.

"We got into- into it- and we- I launched him- threw him in the garbage- but he sprayed me with- with this stuff- and it was the funniest thing I'd ever- I'd ever seen." She snorts. "You should- your face! You look like- like someone died?" She dissolves into giggles.

Bruce is in the realm of fear between throwing up and passing out. He swallows hard, choking back the panic rising like a tidal wave in him. "Stay right here." He says.

Diana salutes him, and the motion makes her go right off the couch onto the rug where she continues to gasp in chemically-induced humor.

There are two kinds of Joker's venom. If she was sprayed in the face, then it's the non-lethal version that will exhaust Diana until she falls into a coma. Antidote will stop it, he knows, but he still books it to where he keeps his antidote. He has a version for the lethal version too, and his head swims as he jams the buttons to get into the Batcave. It's not lethal. It's not lethal. It's not too late.

It's not too late. It's not too late. He keeps repeating that in his head, until the mantra becomes something else.

Please, not her. Please, not her. Please, not her. Please. Please. He can't lose her too. Can't. Won't.

He knows he won't because it's not the lethal version, but his mind still races as he grabs both the antidotes. One for injecting, one for inhaling. Lethal, and non-lethal. Diana is strong, and the effects are similar in low doses. He knows it's not the injected version, she would have said so, but he can't help it. He thinks of the Joker, how he's been trying so hard to get him locked up again, but he's flown under Batman's radar. There he was in his cave, feeling sorry for himself, while Diana was tangling with the man who already took Jason from him.

Jason. Bruce is so selfish. He's selfish and cruel because he's making this about him. The difference now is that he can fix this. The Joker won't take Diana from him the way he took Jason. This is a problem he can solve. He can stop this.

He jams the buttons to get back upstairs, and he can't help but dissolve into the dark place inside of him that grows every moment he isn't vigilant. He doesn't deserve Diana, and she doesn't deserve him. She doesn't deserve the trouble it takes to be close to him. He doesn't deserve her endless optimism and confidence that he'll be for her the way she's for him. This isn't an equal relationship. She brings nothing but good into his life, and he brings what to hers? Other than Wayne money for the League, and an eye on situations, he can't think of anything he's done to deserve her devotion. His friend is upstairs on his rug cramping from laughing too long, and he has to go fix that. Fix it before she potentially suffocates from exhausted lungs or slips into a coma. Both of these outcomes are impossible. He can't do this twice, can't break 

She's on her back, still laughing, and Bruce hauls her onto her side. He doesn't move his hands anywhere near her face. It's like dealing with a seizure, and he's not looking to lose a finger from her spasming mouth. "Please don't punch me." He says and jams the needle into her arm with almost all his strength.

He'd never do this to a normal person, but he needs to do it with Diana. He had done something similar before. Bruce recalls the time when she had needed a shot before a diplomatic mission with H al.  The planet they'd visited was covered in dangerous and potentially mind-altering pollen, and she needed an immunity. Diana had held Clark's hands and Bruce had gone through sixteen needles before he found the right amount of pressure to get the needle into her arm.

Diana doesn't punch him this time, but her elbow snaps up and while his rib isn't broken, he'll need to ice it before bed. He pushes the plunger down and most of the stress leaves him as the antidote leaves the needle. Next, he tears off the cap to the inhaled antidote and helps Diana sit up.

"Put your lips around this." Bruce pushes the mouthpiece to her face.

She does so, her chest still shaking with laughter.

"Now suck in." He says and presses the button on the device.

She inhales in small sucks, blowing it back out half as much as inhaling it, but he keeps holding it to her mouth. He supports her head with a hand, and she leans on his couch as her chest's pulsing slows, and slows, until she's taking a long, deep inhale of the antidote. He pulls it away then, watches the last of the fog leave her nose and mouth. When her eyes flutter the stress comes back in a riding tidal wave. No, no, no, he did it right! He did it in time! Now he'll have to wake her up from a coma, and what will he say to anyone else about-

She coughs and clutches her hands to her face. "Oh sweet vengeful Hera, my face hurts." She groans.

Bruce exhales in a long gust and presses a hand to her shoulder, feeling the warm flesh that has somehow managed to not be chilled from rainwater. "How do you feel?"

"Sore." She says and then looks at him with narrow eyes. "Is... did you just have me vape?"

It catches him so off guard, Bruce lets out a chuckle. Then it continues, and continues until he's clutching his sides and hooting. He's overcome with the whole of the stress and fear and bone-deep tiredness that he's had lingering in his system for months. It all melts out of him as he falls off-balance, trying not to roll around. It's not from Diana, he's sure, it's his own system going into overdrive. It feels wonderful, and he's light for one blissful moment. Diana is safe, able to joke with him, and there isn't a single thing wrong with him.

He looks at her, on his side with tears in his eyes, to see Diana watching him. Her face is fond, and tired, and he's so happy she's okay and alive and still able to knock the wind out of him with just a few words. He's so happy she's here with him. She makes him so happy.

He isn't sure if that's the moment he falls in love with her, or if it's the first time he’s come to realize it. He doesn’t care about the distinction.

"Are you done?" Diana asks.

The world comes back. It's like lead in his veins, but he's always been strong. He can take care of himself, and he just saved Diana from a lot of pain. He's feeling better than he was before, and that's something. It's something. He loves her.

"Yeah." Bruce breathes, and then clears his throat. "Yeah, I'm done. This has been a strange night."

"Good." Diana struggles to her feet. "Can I- may I stay the night? I'll be gone in the morning, but I don't want to go yet."

Bruce nods and gets up after her. "Any of the rooms that don't look lived-in can be yours. I have some things to finish before I go to bed, but help yourself." He waves at the hallway beyond. "If you start feeling amused out of nowhere, just take another breath of that, alright?"

Diana fiddles with the device in her hands, and another puff of antidote trickles out. "Okay." She says and gives him a look. "Have breakfast with me in the morning, at least?"

He'll be well on his way to bed, but he can't deny her in the face of this new development. "Fine." He says. "I'll do that for you."

When he gets back down to the Batcave, the decryption still needs another twenty minutes to go. Since this is a day of surprises, Bruce decides to do something he never does and takes a nap right there in front of the computer.


	2. Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim's in the picture and Bruce is feeling better!
> 
> No warnings in this chapter I'm aware of.

At 7:05 he gets a text.

_ Hey guys, some stuff happened at work and I'm not sure how to feel about it. I'd like to see you all and talk. _

It's from Clark. Clark, Diana, and Bruce are all part of the same groupchat, despite the fact that Bruce hasn't responded to either of them in months. He considers the text and then pockets the phone. He never says no outright, because he likes to pretend that he might be able to see the only two people in the world he considers his friends. He won't be able to go, of course, he hasn't been able to go for a long time. He doesn't have the energy, or patience. He hardly has the patience for seeing them for League-related business, or the rare occasion that they stop by unannounced. No matter how much he cares for Clark or how fierce his longing for Diana, he can't.

Except he can, today.

It's strange, at the end of the night, standing outside in the winter air and feeling like he could do something other than sleep. His mind wanders to Tim Drake, that smart boy who’s inserted himself into Bruce's life. His mind wanders to Jason, and the thought doesn't make his stomach clench and eyes sting. Then he thinks about Dick, and how Dick thought the world of Diana and Clark.

Bruce sends the text at 2:43 AM, right as the Riddler is being hauled off back to Arkham. _ I'm free now. You? _ He sends. His breath fogs over the phone's screen, and he hides a smile at hearing the Riddler trying to bargain with the people putting him in the transport van.

Checking back through the log of their group-chat, it's the first time he's been the one to agree to a meetup in sixteen months. In the last year, he's only met up with them twice. He feels guilty, but what doesn't make him feel guilty? Diana and Clark should be more open to doing this without him, but they're too loyal.

They answer within seconds of each other.

Diana is first.  _ Yes! _ followed by a plane emoji.  _ I can get there in forty minutes! _

_ Of course. Forty minutes then? _ Clark sends exactly three seconds later.

It's a two-hour drive to Metropolis but Bruce knows Clark can clear it in no time at all. He'll fly in and loiter on someone's roof until Diana flies in and they can meet up.

He sends another text.  _ That Chinese place, is it good, or do you want to go to a breakfast or diner-style place? _

_ Chinese is fine.  _ Clark sends.

Diana sends another plane emoji followed by three exclamation marks. Bruce takes it as an agreement.

The Chinese place is one of the few 24 hour restaurants in the area, save for somescattered Dennys and IHOP's.. Bruce didn't even have the name memorized, he knew it as the Chinese place two blocks down and across the street from an old hideout of Catwoman's. It's the one she used to stash 'emeralds and jade and any other green jewels' as she said. Bruce has yet to find any of her other stashes, making him wonder if she was joking.

"Evening." Bruce says to the tired waitress who greets him. "My friends and I are about to destroy your kitchen and I'm sorry about it. How much would I have to put in this tip jar to make up for it?"

The woman narrows her eyes at him. "Destroy how?"

"One of them likes to randomly pick things off of the menu and both me and my other friend can put down three regular men's meals in one sitting. So you might end up cooking for about nine people for us three."

Her lips press together. "You seem fine, so I'll tell you that'll be a lot of trouble."

"How many people are working right now?" Bruce eyes behind the woman, checking out the state of the kitchen.

"Me, another waiter, and three people in the kitchen." She says.

Bruce counts out six fifty dollar bills and drops them in the jar. "Count on that again at the end of the meal."

She snatches the jar up and heads to the kitchen. The other waiter follows her. She comes back out with the jar minus the three hundred dollars. "The head chef asked if you were the handsome blue-eyed guy who carries around a stack of cash. I said yes, and she said you're her favorite because you tip two hundred percent."

"My friends are a handful. I'd feel bad if I didn't make it less trouble." Bruce shrugs. "If my friends try to tip you don't take their money, and I'll give you double what they offer instead."

"I can do that." The waitress' eyes glimmer. "You should come here more often, make it worth the graveyard shift."

Bruce will need to request this woman as his waitress when he comes here from now on. "Will do, ma'am."

He takes his seat and checks the time on his watch. It's going to be exactly three minutes until they show up, so Bruce orders their drinks for them. Water for Clark, and a root beer for Diana. If she was ordering for herself, she'd ask for wine, then ale, then beer, then settle on root beer if none of those were available.

Bruce gets tea, to warm his hands.

Like clockwork, Diana comes in first. She looks radiant, as always, with a heavy wool hat pulled low over her ears, a large scarf, and a thick coat colored bright blue. She complains often of the cold, having come from an island paradise it’s logical she wouldn't ever enjoy the cold. A flush sits high on her cheeks, ocean-blue eyes sparkling with pure joy as she hurries through the door. She spots him right away and throws herself into the seat across from him, scooting to the inside of the booth where her root beer sits. She tugs her scarf down and gives him one of her heart-stopping smiles. "Hello!" She greets and smells her drink. "Oh, they didn't have any spirits then? Very well."

Clark opens the door right when Diana starts taking her gloves off. With how he doesn’t meet Diana's eyes and only smiles at Bruce, it leads him to think they planned this separated entrance. They likely met up a while before to talk and plan their entrance strategy. Clark is also radiant, as always, with his hair unstyled but still curling up and over his forehead. He’s wearing heavy but practical boots and a coat that are both ugly as sin. Or they would be ugly as sin if they were on anyone other than Clark Joseph Kent, the picture of Middle-American masculine beauty. Clark hurries over too and slides next to Diana. Bruce takes a sip from his tea (green tea with only a little honey for his throat) to calm his heartbeat.

"Did I miss anything?" Clark asks.

"I just got here!" Diana claps him on the shoulder too hard, to the point other people look over at the loud sound.

Bruce takes another sip from his tea. "So you two even rehearsed what you'd say when you were figuring out how to come inside?" Bruce asks.

Clark laughs, only a little nervous. "Not everything is a conspiracy against you, you know that right?"

That is wrong, but Bruce gives Diana a glance she is studiously avoiding by reading the menu as if she doesn’t already know how she is going to order.

There is a conversation to be had, but the waitress comes over before they can get into it. "Good morning." She says, and that isn’t wrong considering the time. Bruce checks her name tag. Candice. He'll remember that.

"Good morning!" Diana says and fishes in her pocket. "We are all ready to order, are we not?"

"I get the same thing every time." Bruce says. "Yeah, I’m ready, Clark?"

"That's fine." Clark confirms. "I want a bowl of large fried rice with beef and broccoli, two cups of chicken soup, and an order of four cream cheese rangoons."

The waitress -Candice- gives Bruce a look. "I thought you said this man could eat three men's meals?"

"Think of this as the first course." Bruce warns her. "I also want a bowl of large fried rice but with chicken and broccoli. I'll give everyone in the kitchen another twenty if you get a clean pan for my food so it won't cross-contaminate."

"Are you allergic to something?" She asks.

"No, I'm Jewish." Bruce clarifies.

"Oh, that isn't a problem. Where do you think we get most of our business from in the holiday season?" Candice waves a hand. "We'd do it even if you didn't offer money."

"I know." Bruce believes her but he’ll put another wad of twenties in the tip jar before he left. "I also want double chicken, a cup of egg drop soup, and four egg rolls."

Diana meanwhile is working on ordering her own way. Which means she takes a handful of change, lays out the menu, and drops the coins down onto the paper. She lets them clatter into place and orders where the coins fall. "A dozen sweet buns, six cream cheese rangoons, three spring rolls, an order of scallion pancakes, the house special Lo Mein, and... five fortune cookies."

Candice the waitress stares at her and looks again at Bruce. "Is that it?"

"Not in the slightest, but that will be it for now." Bruce says.

Candice reads their order back to them and leaves, leaving them alone.

"So." Bruce stirs his tea with his straw. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Clark looks confused, and then his face lights up in recognition. "I forgot that I was the one that called us here. Uh, work problems, actually, but everyone at work already knows and I'm not personally effected so it's... not something I can complain to them about." Clark shrugs.

"Of course." Bruce says. It’s the same principle that keeps him from complaining about the company or Dick's trust fund to Clark and Diana, who can't relate and don't get it.

"There have been some layoffs at the Planet." Clark says.

Bruce resists the urge to buy the Daily Planet -again- and lets Diana speak. "A layoff is... what again?"

"It's when a company has to fire people because they can't afford to pay them." Clark says. "Sometimes it's temporary, but I think they say that to make the people they're laying off feel better."

Bruce agrees, but as a billionaire he feels like his input in this situation won’t be wanted. "You said you're not effected?" Bruce asks.

"No, because I talked to my editor and even he was close to being laid off. He said that we got off fine because we write money-makers that keep people coming, but we lost a bunch of people and a few columns. A few new people from other newspapers are being brought in to replace a few of them, but then the other employees resent them so they're getting a bad start." Clark says in one long rush.

Bruce waits while Diana speaks again. "That seems redundant. Why not threaten the column-makers and tell them they'll be fired if their stuff doesn't improve? Why bring in new people?"

Despite not knowing a lot about the world despite being in it for so long, Diana is so insightful and thought-provoking. The gentle yearning in his heart surges up into his throat for a second and swallows it back with another sip of tea.

"I've been asking myself that question." Clark mutters into another sip of water. "I don't know and thinking about it gets my feathers ruffled."

Candice swings by to replace Diana's root beer and Clark's water when Bruce replies. "I'm sorry." He says, trying to be earnest.

"I'm sorrier for this one guy." Clark begins. "I knew him a while. Worked in the sports section forever, had stickers of any sports team you can think of all over his cubicle. He did fantasy football and actually won money from his games like that. His wife is retired, and he was two years from retirement himself. And they cut him, just like that! The only person to be cut from the sports section, and I helped him pack his desk when he just- he sat there with his head in his hands for an hour."

Clark blinks, and Bruce doesn’t miss the mist in the man's eyes, even behind those thick glasses. "I asked if he was okay, and he said he hated that his wife would have to go back to work and he might have to ask his kids for help. There's no shame in that, of course, but the man was 58 and lost everything." Clark sighs.

Bruce pulls his phone out and starts composing an email. "I'll send you a thing that the Industry sends people who get fired in Metropolis."

"Bruce, with all due respect, I don't think he wants to uproot and move to Gotham." Clark sighs, exasperated instead of sad.

Bruce waves a hand. "Of course, not that, but the document's first dozen or so pages is information on how to file for unemployment, how to seek employment after this, what benefits they're entitled to. There are also some websites that can help them get their life on track as soon as possible. You can cut the last dozen pages that are specific to the company and Gotham."

Clark makes a sound, and Bruce glances up at the noise.

The man is moved, face flushed, eyes even mistier than before. "That would-" Clark swallows. "That would be fantastic. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

Bruce turns his attention back to his email, searching for the document in question. It's a little uncomfortable being faced with the intensity of Clark's gaze "Don't mention it."

Diana dives in. "Can you think of anyone else who could benefit from that? Who else got layoffed?"

"It's laid off, not layoffed, but it was quite a few people-" Clark begins, and Bruce tunes them out.

Bruce reflects on this as he tries to narrow down his emails. He is pretty sure he got the email in a company-wide email from HR, and considering how much Wayne Enterprises banks off of people desperate for work from other places. There are quite a few emails based around that exact situation he has to sort through.

Clark is so soft, it has to hurt. Clark does hurt, actually, Bruce thinks. The man is easily moved, and expresses everything he feels with wild abandon. It’s something that Bruce likes about Clark. The man might be able to survive things that would kill normal people a hundred times over, but his downfall would always be be his heart.

That attitude frequently gets them into trouble, too. The trouble is worth it though. As attractive as Clark is, the real factor that makes him so perfect is his personhood. If there is one thing in the world that gives Bruce hope for the goodness in humanity, it is Clark Joseph Kent. Diana occupies a similar place for him. If she is his faith in the endurance of justice, Clark is his faith in the endurance of goodness. Not to say Diana isn't good and Clark isn't just, only that Clark is a special kind of force distinct from her. A perfect, soft, and whole goodness that-

Bruce stares at his phone, suddenly unable to read the words in the face of what’s now in the front of his mind.

"Woah." Clark says. "What just happened?" Clark asks, probably referring to the jump of Bruce's whole system.

"Don't worry about it." Bruce dismisses and won’t look up.

He remembers once, a long time ago, when he was a kid and he first learned about all the things that made him up. Blood came from bones, pain came from nerves, and that his lungs had little sacks in them that turned the air into oxygen in his blood. The understanding that came with absolute truth and made perfect sense, and was always there even if he never noticed it.

His love for Clark is like blood in his bones and pain in his nervous system and air in his lungs. It doesn’t really matter when it came to be or why. All that matters is he can feel deep inside that it’s never going to leave and as long as there’s blood pumping through his system he will love Clark Kent.

If he looks up and meets Clark's eyes then he is sure that this love that was written on his soul and built into the marrow of his bones will leak out of his mouth. Then Clark will know and Bruce will have to flee the country. He knows this. He knows this as he knows the sky is blue and the world isn’t complete without Clark in it.

Shit, shit, shit!

Bruce thinks about Diana, who he  _ knows _ he is sickeningly in love with. She already has his heart in her hands, maybe that will fix this. He watches her, the curl of her lips and the long flowing dark hair cascading over her shoulders, trying to make sense of this whole situation. He loves her, he loves her, but it doesn’t lessen the sudden understanding he has. If anything, it all winds together. They are both active participants in the holding of his heart. Their hands are clasped, their fingers intertwined, with Bruce's heart sitting cradled between them.

Maybe it’s always been linked. There’s no love for Clark without his love for Diana, and no love for Diana without love for Clark. It makes a sickening amount of sense that buries into his stomach like being frozen from the inside out.

"Hello." Candice says, yanking Bruce out of his thoughts and panic. "I have your food, miss, but I'll need to make a few trips for the rest of you. Can I top off your tea?" She aims her last question at Bruce.

"Yes please." Bruce says. Like one can ignore the fact they're breathing and their heart is beating, Bruce shoves this realization down deep where he can look at it when he's ready. "Still no sugar, please."

"No problem." Candice says. "I'll be right back."

Bruce clears his throat and addresses Clark. "I can't find it right now, but I'll send it to you later. What else do you think you can do to help your coworkers?"

Clark gives him a funny look, but doesn't push on Bruce's strange behavior. He launches into his ideas after that, and Bruce lets the love for these two perfect people wind tightly around his heart without protest. To fight it would be a Sisyphean feat, impossible and grueling.

He needs to fix it, though. Everything he loves he ends up ruining. Unlike other people, they never signed up for this, so he needs to protect them from himself. They might be the strongest people in the world, but Clark is so emotionally vulnerable and Diana isn’t invulnerable either. It’s breakable, and Bruce will be damned if he’s the one to finally shatter the pair.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my Beta who edited my stuff despite having a headache. Love you Isa <3


End file.
